72 hours
by nekojco
Summary: Everything can happen in just 72 hours. Experiment with 2nd person POV Jane. If people like it, i'll continue it. Rated M for.. wellllll ;)
1. Chapter 1

She straddles you as you're leaning back on the couch.

"You're drunk."

"So are you."

"I'll be taking advantage of you."

"No, you won't be."

"Maura, stop."

She doesn't. Before you know it her hands are on your neck, pulling you in and her lips meet yours with such fervor, it's like she was dying and they held the elixir of life. You can't help but give in and your whole body arches up to bind to her. She tastes sweet, like the coconut rum, half a bottle of which you both downed in ten minutes. Her lips are soft and moving hastily down to your neck, and you feel the tingle of her fingers gently grazing your abs as she lifts your top. You remove hers promptly too and your eyes drown in the sight in front of you. You hesitate, but she goes back to kissing you.

"Maura, you'll regret it in the morning."

"No I won't." She says this quickly, unwilling to part her lips from that sensitive patch of skin between your neck and right shoulder.

"Yeah right, like last time." you think it, and it comes out of your mouth so silently, you don't know if she heard it. The music she played in the background covers it up further. You're now not sure if you even voiced it.

She shuts you up by kissing you and your back slams into the couch again. You want her on top of you. You want to be on top of her. You can't decide which one you want more.

"Let's pull this couch out." you say, afraid you'll overdo it if you suggest moving to her bed.

She gets up and steps back without a word and you take the coat and her purse you casually threw next to where you were sitting and move them to the armchair. When you turn back she's already pulled out the couch. You both end up in a mess of limbs and you don't know who did what but you find yourself over her, spreading her legs with your knee and she moans. It's the most beautiful sound, and you want to hear it again. And again.

The music stops.

"I forgot to start it as a playlist. Can you..." she points to the laptop and you get off her.

She says the name of a band and the title of a song you are certain you haven't heard before but she definitely know what she is doing because the song was obviously made for sex. The tune envelops your brain, still hazy from the drinks, you think you've lost sense of time and space, and when you turn back her pants are off. You look at her underwear but in the light she had carefully previously dimmed you can't possibly tell what it looks like. You don't care. You're distracted by the shadows on her abs and your lips move on their own. Your hand slides below her back, searching. It looks like it's going to be troublesome but you feel the tension of her bra disappear in one swift motion of your fingers, and while taking it off you're wondering if you've teleported to some fictional universe where everything is like in the movies. She mirrors you and throws the black piece of underwear somewhere around. When you lie down your torsos explode. You've never been this close to her before. Not last time. Didn't go this far.

You kiss her. She kisses back. The strange urgency in your gut returns and you feel like you have to kiss her as much as you can, while you can, because if you don't you'll yearn for it when it's taken away, the moment will escape and you won't be allowed to do it anymore. Her hands trail down your chest, wander slowly around and end up on your back. A jolt of electricity strikes you, makes you primal and you just want to give in to everything and anything but you remember not to be too rough. She doesn't like rough.

Your lips and tongue travel down her neck and breasts and you kiss them. Was that a moan? You hope so. You move your lips to the other one. Your hands are everywhere and her nails are scratching your back.

Your hair falls from the sides of your face. It gets in between you as you kiss. She giggles.

Your eyes open with a question mark and she's still grinning.

"Hair. Hair everywhere."

You know the exact part in the drawer below the TV where Maura has a full arsenal of headbands and you jump for it.

Seconds later your eyes drop to the gorgeous, now fully naked laying form. Your heartbeat echoes like a drum-roll in your head.

_She's so quick tonight,_ you think. You try to recall how much alcohol she's had but your brain isn't sober enough either, and you can't recall, let alone compute. Most importantly, you don't care. _Just live in the moment, Jane, just live in the moment._

You lie down alongside her, propped on your hand as the other one traces down her torso.

_Maura..._

You meet her eyes and you hope she understands you. It's not an explanation request cause you don't need it. Not a permission request cause you know you already have it. It's different. _Are you sure._

Her hand grabs the one you have lying on her abs and as an answer to your unspoken question slides it lower on her body. You reach her. You gasp.

_Ohmygo..._

You're lost in the moans that both of you let out and you close your mouth around hers as if you're trying to capture her breath.

She's slippery and silky and her head is thrown back.

"You're so wet." Like an inquiry, not to her, but to the universe. A request for confirmation that this is happening. That you're really there, with her, doing that.

You don't have any control over your body, and your fingers listen to themselves only.

You slide in.


	2. Chapter 2

It's smooth and warm around you, pulsing, yearning.

There are sounds you've never heard before but you never wanna stop hearing. Some indiscernible words punctuate her breaths. She's smiling, then licking her lip, then arching her back, and throwing her head back. Your mouth busies itself with all it can reach. The finger, and then fingers, accustom themselves to their rhythm. You dive deeper and deeper and your fingers curl, your fingertips search.

All of her muscles contract as she laughs shortly. All of them. All. Of. Them.

But the key point is, she laughs. Not what you expected. You're taken aback.

"Jaaane?"

An incomprehensible murmur between kisses is your reply to her.

"Are you trying..."

_Don't say it Maura please for everything's sake don't say it don't say it._

"...to find my g-spot?"

_Don't make it awkward, don't back away, don't sound stupid._

"Yes."

Pause.

Does she notice when you tense?

"It's okay it just made me wanna pee." you look at her, searching her face in an attempt to read what she's thinking. "I need to pee." she repeats and she touches your hand slowly, and you pull out. She jumps to the bathroom. You body falls down where she used to lie and you feel her scent.

_You fucked up you fucked up._

There's nothing to do and you wanna stop your mind from thinking.

So you just zone out.

She doesn't come out so you go look for her.

"Maur, everything okay?" you say after you knock.

"All fine, don't worry."

You still do.

_I fucked up, didn't I?_

You knock again.

"I'll be right there."

You can't read her tone and you can't see her neck to check if she's lying and all this makes you uncomfortable. You spread your body on the couch mattress and wait.

When she returns she lies next to you and closes her eyes.

"Mau.."

"Don't worry, I'm just a little dizzy." she answers before you can ask.

"You sure?"

A nod.

You turn to her and kiss her. She kisses back but only barely. You move lower to her collarbone. She's relaxed so you do it again. A slow breath escapes her. Encouraging. She scoots a little closer to you and your lips are now sucking on the soft skin.

A moan. She turns her face to you and for a short time you resume committing the shape and texture of her lips to memory. You feel like you better memorize it now, you won't get it again.

And she's even less responsive.

"I'm sorry." she says as she lies back down and spreads her limbs. "Just give me a minute." her tone tells you she's dozing off.

So that's it.

Cut off, like last time,

You grab the blanket, _that_ blanket, and you cover her.

"Maura..."

"Mhm?"

"You should get to bed."

"I'm fine I'm fine just give me a minute."

Your eyes roll on their own as you make your way to her bedroom in search of pajamas. You enter and see that everything is very un-Maura-like. There are several pieces of underwear spread out on the unmade bed, like she couldn't decide what to wear. There's an empty shoebox laying in the middle and the closet is wide open. You clear the bed, leaving it all on an empty chair and notice your target peeking from under the pillows. Both the pants and the t-shirt come downstairs with you.

Then, there, you take one look at her and you can't believe it.

She's turned on her side, the blanket covering the bare minimum. Her legs are bent and it looks like she's walking and her arms are clutching the hem of the blanket at her chest. Like she's doing a photo-shoot. Even when she's drunk, passed out, naked on the pull out couch with a blanket on top.

You shake your head, smiling and you kneel down to her.

"Maura."

Some incoherent grumbling reaches your ears.

"Maura you need to put some clothes on, you'll catch a cold."

"I'm fiiiine... just give me a few seconds."

You don't.

You know you didn't get her underwear but it's discarded somewhere on the floor with everything else. And you didn't want to poke through her drawers. So, commando it will be. You carefully move her legs back together and manage to get the pajama bottoms up to her knees.

"Help me out here."

Her arms reach down as she pulls them up all the way.

"OK, now the top."

But there's no way you do that smoothly so you just shake her up, and pull the blanket off. She complains at the loss, reaching up with her arms expecting you to give it back, but you put her top in them instead.

"Put it on."

She complies.

Now only to get her to the bed.

It's easier than you think because you offer your hands and she grabs them and pulls herself up. You lead her to the bedroom and tuck her in, wrap her as tight as you possibly can, and then you kiss her cheek. And you just know that that's all there is and tomorrow you will have to look away every time her face is close to yours and turn your head outwards every time she hugs you. So you lean in further. She's turned away from you so you only kiss the corner of her mouth. It's not a good enough last kiss, so you lean down further in ways you think your spine is incapable of moving and you kiss her properly. She doesn't respond. She's already out again

_Dehydrated!_

You snap back and run to the bathroom where you know she keeps a glass.

A shake on her shoulder.

"Maura, water. You know you have to." When she moves it looks like she's tried to move a mountain. Her limbs appear heavy and she doesn't open her eyes when she reaches for the glass and you place it in her ready hand. She only drinks half before handing it back to you and slamming her head back into the pillow.

You're uncomfortable.

Was it because of what just took place? Or how? Or that she was drunk? Or that you feel like the worst possible piece of shit in the world? Or that you wish you hadn't drank at all so you could rationally stop yourself? Or that actually you don't, and you're glad whatever happened happened.

It's probably because you are afraid of the answers that you don't want to think about these things anymore. You grab her laptop and search for your bra and your top on the floor, making yourself comfortable downstairs. You're gonna stay and be there if she needs something. You just need a distraction.

You don't know for how long you've been pointlessly roaming around random websites when you hear the knock.

At first you think it's Frost or Korsak that could check on you. Maybe because they saw that you two were already drunk when you left the gathering, and you weren't answering your phone. But that's stupid, why would they do that?

They wouldn't.

It's not them.

It's her bang-buddy. Casual sex partner. Friend, no scratch that, acquaintance with benefits. Call it as you wish. Annoying arrogant undeserving icky fancy prick.

Poker face time.

"Bran. What are you doing here?" You try to sound polite.

"Maura texted me some time ago."

This confuses you. _What?_

"She called you over?"

"No, she just said she'd be home."

You understand. He's come to fuck. You hate him. You wanna smack your fist in his lousy overgroomed face that talks nothing but bullshit and make his teeth fall off until he's unable to speak. Then you wanna strangle him so he can't even produce that annoying voice anymore.

"Well, she was drunk and now she's passed out. I'm waiting to see if she needs something."

"Really?"

"Yep. What, you wanna check on her?" Yes. You even invite him. It's a taunt. You hope he notices the pulled out couch and the clothes left thrown away around the living room as he passes through on the way upstairs.

"Maura, hey Maura." he tries to shake her awake.

Here's that urge to glue your fist to his head again. _She's sleeping you moron, stop it. Leave her alone._

"Don't touch me." she says sleepily. "I don't wanna be touched."

You don't even try to keep the grin inside when she shoos him off, but then it settles bitterly as a frown on your face as you think of what might have caused such reaction. You. And what you two did tonight.

He tries again.

"Hey, it's me, it's Bran..."

She shakes off the arm from underneath his hand and he finally backs off.

"Let her be, dude."

He nods and moves towards the door. On the way he says that if you or Maura need him, he'll be at some party at somebody's place that Maura knows. He lists a few names but you don't even bother to catch them. He's out of the door and still telling his plans to the abundant nothingness that pays attention to him. You nod repeatedly and as obviously obnoxiously as you can.

"Okay. Bye-bye." The door is shut. You know he doesn't like you. Why bother changing that?

It's too late to be going home and it doesn't make any sense. But you're very sober by now and you just can't stand to be there. You can't stand to think of the inevitable talk the following morning.

_Fuck._

You take her keys and go to her desk, finding a post it to stick on her bedroom door.

_"Took your keys to check on you later. I'll be back for breakfast. Don't lock yourself out."_

So you pick up your coat and you're gone.

* * *

Don't worry, stuff's far from over, we still have about 68 hours left :P


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: The response to this story has been great so far. THANK YOU.

* * *

"Good Morning."

It's half past seven and you're leaning on the frame of her bedroom door.

"Maura..."

You've been awake all night.

"Hey Maura, it's morning."

And yet you don't feel sleepy.

"Your favorite bakery is opening in half an hour."

You move close to her bed and reach for her arm.

"Hmm?" She stirs.

"You need to get moving or something. Drink some water too."

You sit on the bed near her legs and start unconsciously rubbing them.

She looks up.

"Hey. G'morning."

Smiling. At least until she remembers. _If_ she remembers. You don't know what you'd prefer.

"I'm determined to get you up and moving, eating too. You pretty much can't shake off my babysitting today." Your tone is playful. It comes naturally. She chuckles as you put on a strict and firm face and stretches her arms.

You like the lightness of the situation.

Again, until she remembers.

She looks down at herself and raises her eyebrows.

"Why... am in my pajamas?"

"What do you think? It's cause I put you in them!"

"You put me in my pajamas?"

Her continuous laughter as you nod enthusiastically relaxes the tension in your shoulders, and more importantly, in your chest.

"Come on, out of bed!"

You think this might not go bad.

"Jane, what _exactly_ happened last night?"

Oops, never mind.

There's a soft pressure on your fingers that you realize you're applying yourself. Your head is turned away and your eyes are unfocused, scavenging random points on the wall.

"Look..." A strange force is holding your tongue stuck in your mouth. You convince yourself you can do it. You can speak. It's just Maura. Maura who you work and hang out and watch crappy movies and boring plays with. Maura who you were kissing last night. Maura, who laid naked below you. Your best friend Maura. _Just_ Maura. "If I tell you everything you're just gonna regret it and feel bad. It was what it was."

"Jane, I don't regret it. Plus, I remember things, a lot, it's just a little... blurry. There are images and things I just don't know _everything_."

You want to turn your head and check for hives. The force has apparently moved from your tongue to your neck. So you can't.

"Yeah right."

"I'm serious. Please?"

"Maura I'm not like, gonna...I don't know, tell you a story."

She finds it amusing that you are evidently flustered. The rustle of sheets tells you she's getting up, and she walks up in front of you, as if daring you.

"Why not?"

Her eyes make contact with yours for a second before she proceeds to the bathroom.

You feel the need and desire to play along with this more than you want the Red Sox to win all of their games this season, more than you want to have a week off instead of just a few days, more than you want coffee. Yes. More than coffee.

_"Jane, I'm a tease, get used to it."_

The memory of Maura's soft lips seductively uttering that phrase over a month ago discourages you. If she wanted it, she'd go for it. Like last night. Now it's just talk. All talk.

"I don't have underwear on!" she calls from behind the semi-open bathroom door.

"Yeah. I didn't wanna go through all your drawers."

You remember all of the lingerie that was spread out on the bed. You could've taken some of that. But then, how uncomfortable would that be to wear while sleeping?!

In a few minutes she returns and opens one of the wardrobes, pointing to a shelf. "Look, this is where I keep it, just in case, for next time."

You almost don't notice what exactly she says, but when you do some muscles on your face contract and you end up with a smirk and a raised eyebrow.

"_Next_ time?".

She's teasing. And joking. Classic. _Damn it Jane, why did you fall for it?_

"You never know." A smile.

"Good to know." Fucking tease.

* * *

_It's been less than 24 hours since you felt what her lips tasted like, how wet her tongue was on your neck, what her breasts felt like through her top, how smooth her back was, how comfortable the weight of her body was when she laid on tip of you, how much you wanted her. And now you want her more. It's evening and you summon the courage to actually ask, since she didn't drop a single hint pointing to a concrete yes or no. Or maybe you didn't see it. Point is, you've been stuck in a repetitive interrogation of every move she does and you've come up short._

_"Would you repeat it?"_

_"Not really." _

_A rock heavier than all those weights that are just a joke to you in the gym settles somewhere in your chest._

_You liked it and you have admitted it to yourself. She didn't._

_"Okay."_

_"I mean, I liked it Jane, yes, but I think I've decided I like men more."_

_Of course._

_"It's okay, I was just asking."_

_You tell yourself you won't bring it up again. It was a clear no, a clear rejection._

* * *

You see her rambling through the clothes and she pulls out a bra, a pair of panties, a blouse and jeans. And then, unexpectedly, as you politely turn your head away and back to the bed, she practically jumps under the covers. You see her hands doing something underneath and as your brain is trying to decipher her movements she pulls out her pajama bottoms and puts them aside, grabbing the panties and sneaking them under.

You're suddenly very amused by this childish behaviour, her jumpiness completely untypical for someone that passed out seven hours ago.

"You're awfully awake and not cranky for someone who should be in the middle of a major hangover."

"Oh the fact that the throbbing in my head is to an almost unbearable extent doesn't mean I have to project negative energy."

"Wordy too."

"What?"

"I'm just saying, your early morning assortment of expressions is-"

She cuts you off.

"_Assortment of expressions_? You're not any less wordy yourself."

The little invisible man sitting on your shoulder controlling your involuntary eye movement makes them roll far back into your head and then everything feels light. Everything feels normal. Sure, I mean, you stuck your fingers deep into your best friend last night, but it's like nothing has changed. You revel in the feeling and you lie down on the bed, leaning back on your elbows.

Okay.

"Anyways, I'm planning on returning to bed as soon as I get those little French croissants. Too bad they don't deliver." She takes her top off. There's nothing underneath. Your head automatically leaps to turn away but it's stupid because, let's face it, you had your hands and lips all over those last night. And, let's not forget, you don't _want _to turn away. Your eyes start drowning again but you snap them back to her face. She's eyeing you curiously as she reaches for the pile of clothes.

Let's play.

"Oh, you're not doing _that_ under the covers?"

"Nope, that's okay."

"Aha, I see, _that_ is okay."

"What, you wanted me to show off and change fully in front of you?"

You don't think she'd be that blunt. She's playing wild cards. But you have moves too.

"Nah, that's okay. I already saw everything last night."

Her head pops out of the blouse she is just putting on.

She purses her lips unable to withhold her grin.

When she's all set and her jeans are on too, she lies down alongside you, like one of those uncountable times that you've decided to take a nap together. It's become a second nature, that closeness, physical warmth and comfort of another person's body next to yours. You let your head fall back as you lie properly and she settles her head in the crook of your neck. Your arm automatically wraps around her back, tracing irregular patterns on her upper arm with your thumb. You are close. So close. The soft caress of her breath on your lower neck is making you feel things that you are trying to stifle ever since you got here. You remind yourself that you two used to do this same thing, fully platonically, before anything. It means nothing. It means nothing. It means nothing.

The silence is broken by the grumbling of your stomach.

"Hungry?" she asks you.

"Take a wild guess."

"Alright, alright, we're going."

"Get up." you shake her with the arm that's hugging her.

"You get up."

"Hey, you're the one above me. You have to get up first."

"Okay."

She stays still.

"Maura if you don't get up I'll tickle you."

You've discovered that this is a legitimate threat, working a satisfactory portion of the time. Now is one of those times. She retreats and lies back, staring at the ceiling and murmurs.

"Fine..."

She might be lying back but your faces are still close.

The next few seconds feel like an eternity.

* * *

A/N: Last thing people, please please pleaaase review. It means a lot to me and shows me other perspectives, it usually helps me improve. Thanks :D


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Okay, I won't tease you anymore :P

* * *

You rise up slowly and feel your abs clenching as they are trying to haul up the weight of your upper torso. Your head separates from the soft surface of Maura's bed and rises higher, slowly taking the locks of your hair with it. Maura's head appears in your peripheral vision and her head is turning, stopping halfway towards you. Your body has a choice to use the back muscles to fully prop you up, or to lean on the elbows.

Your head overflows.

Later will be too late.

Later, the mood of the situation will be gone.

Later, the moment will pass. Literally. It's just a moment. Just one.

_"I just wanted to prove that you're just aaaall talk."_

A getaway joking excuse writes itself in your mind, just in case.

Your right forearm settles below you as support and your chest twists, facing her. Her face displays nothing. But it's not unreadable or cryptic. It simply hides no emotion. And that is the beautiful part. She's just looking at you, like she does all the time, with the same warm genuine eyes and relaxed features. That's what encourages you. That she sees you this close, and her face has no fear, no surprise, no sign of any willingness to escape. She wants to be here. She is comfortable being here.

Your left hand stretches its fingers along her jaw, almost moving her face towards yours. Almost, because you don't _really_ do it. Almost, because she does it herself.

And then you lean in and take her lower lip between the two of yours.

And she kisses you back.

Explosions.

Fireworks.

But mostly, relief.

Because sober Maura wants it too.

Your hand waits not a second and slides below her neck, grasping, keeping her close. You think you've been rough and pulled her strongly but that's not the case. She arches up to you on her own. She's hungry. Like she waited for you to do it. Like she was expecting it. Like she was... letting you take the lead.

You shift, placing your leg on the other side of her body so she's below you once more. You don't know who needs it worse, who pulls and pushes and twitches more, whose hands roam the other's body more relentlessly, whose blood rushes faster, whose breaths are louder, whose body burns hotter.

You just know that yours is on fire.

So you kiss. And you touch. And you glide. And you scratch. You lick. You moan. You take deep breaths. You lose control. You fully relax and for once let yourself just enjoy. You free yourself of the urgency that you used to feel because now you feel like there's no clock ticking. Just you and her. And enjoyment.

After what simultaneously feels like seconds and centuries you find yourself struggling to take your lips off hers and speak.

"We're still going for breakfast, you know." She nods, smiling. "Cause I'm still starving."

She flips you over and you laugh as your feet get caught up in the covers and you fall messily to the side. Your hands, not leaving her waist, pull her on top of you properly, then slide to her back, pressing, gluing your bodies together. She smiles against your face and kisses you again. You think it's one of your favorites, her kissing you as she smiles.

"Okay. But can we come back here again afterwards?" This time she's trying to hide an emotion: that her face is virtually pleading. Another warmth envelops you.

"Maaaybe." It's a yes and you both know it.

You feel a giant grin draw out on your face. Five more minutes.

And her lips close on yours yet again.

* * *

The people sitting on the tables around you can look at Maura's white blouse and all they can see is a soft material covering a well-sculpted body. When you look at Maura's white blouse you see the red mark lying below it that you left on her collarbone last night, you see the curve of her breasts and the way they moved when she laid back, naked, and your mind projects the feeling of their softness in your mind. When you look at Maura's white blouse, you only see yourself taking it off.

The breakfast passes in silence, a calm and pleasant atmosphere because none of you feels like talking about anything. This morning was different. This morning was uncertain. Now there's an unspoken ease and an aura of comfort.

You drive her back to her house and as she opens the door to exit the car, you open yours too. She doesn't explicitly ask you in but you feel like she's thankful you don't require an invite.

The living room lies covered in last night's mess. A top, pants, boots, underwear, glasses and alcohol. You don't care. It's amusing, really, the remnants of a wild checkpoint in whatever that thing between you two can be labeled as. A little less than 12 hours ago you were certain it was a lost cause. Now, you're encouraged. A tremendously annoying voice in your head tells you to not get your hopes too high up but you shake it off. _Shut up._

She , _of course_, starts tidying things up and you offer help, but before you know it she's done and she's lying on the couch again, smiling at you.

It's an explicit enough of an invite.

* * *

"I have this peculiar feeling," Words like these would usually make you alert, but her tone indicates nothing of the sorts. It sounds like she's pondering amusedly. She kisses you again before continuing. "like some teenager flailing over simple little things in high school."

It's funny.

Also, it's true, for you too.

Maybe that's why it's funny. Look at what state of mind this has brought you two to. You're lying topless next to Maura, who is equally clothed, and sleep is creeping up on you but you don't wanna stop. What soothes you and allows you to let it take over is the notion that sleep won't be the end this time.

The first time, you stopped and went to bed cause she said she was tired. The next day you couldn't have her anymore.

Last night she passed out and you thought it was done. For over six or seven hours you were wondering how long until you stop feeling like an abusive shithead and also how long until she drunkenly decides she wants you again. Pathetic.

But now sleep doesn't mean this is over. You can wake up and kiss her.

You brain envelops around that one thought of waking up next to her and kissing her. You try to think of what your goals were before that, but this is the only thing on your checklist of sought after achievements. She rises shortly and pulls the blanket over the two of you, the blanket under which you sat and talked about work, laughed and cried, watched movies and gossiped about men. _Men. Ew._ The fact that you actually think these two words in that succession feels stupidly ridiculous to you, but your mind doesn't have enough time to analyze this because you're dozing off next to your best friend.

But when you wake up...

When you wake up you can kiss her.

* * *

A/N: Or well, I won't tease you _for now_, because, you know, over 60 hours left :P

Feel free to inbox me or say you wanna discuss something (also in/about your review). I've been doing that with a few of you and it's reaaaally cool :P Am waiting for your reactions :P

And don't forget to review, it makes my day :)


	5. Chapter 5

A/N I'm sorry you had to wait, but I was out of town for a few days. And will be again for the next few, so... enjoy.

p.s. This chapter wasn't proofread cause it's after 4am I was in a hurry to publish while I still can so you don't have to wait too long, so please excuse any stupid mistakes.

* * *

You turn comfortably under the covers and are greeted by the chilly feeling of the empty sheets. When you open your eyes you are alone in your room and your mind instantly realizes that waking up next to her was by far better. Your thoughts swim off to the memory of turning and finding her there, facing you, but with calm sleeping eyes. To that moment when you did it, you woke up and kissed her.

You remember your hand resting on her side, moving lower and dipping as you trail her waist, and then rising to her hip. Your fingertips ache for that feeling again but it's not something you can have because you're already home and it's... wait, you reach for your phone to check the time... it's 11 pm. You woke up next to her about ten hours ago after the short nap on her couch. Both of you had lunch and then split ways, partly because you felt exhausted, needing a shower and a proper rest, partly because you weren't sure how appropriate would be to be together all the time and what would be hogging her and what would be boring her. Of course you used to be together like ninety percent of the time. But now it suddenly seems like a big deal to do it all in a somewhat calculated manner.

So you went to bed in the afternoon, thanking the universe for the days off, and now you're still feeling lazy and still need a shower. You end up in front of your laptop and it's two hours later and you've done zero things. It's Saturday night but on this one you are absolutely immune to the public's and particularly Maura's insistence on dressing up and going out. That's why you have mixed feelings when you hear the sounds at your door.

"Hi." you manage as you open it, quickly throwing on a hoodie over the t-shirt you slept in. For a second everything halts and you are suddenly unsure of what the appropriate greeting is. Do you just walk away and let her walk in as if she's at her own place, as usual? Do you actually ask her to come in? Do you hug her? Do you kiss her? Can you kiss her? You know you want to.

She saves you from the pondering by stepping in as you're holding the door open, grabbing you by the back of your neck and pulling you in for a kiss.

"Maura," you barely manage to speak as her grip is strong. " Casey's on Skype over there."

She laughs at this and kisses you even harder so you can't even speak anymore.

"So?"

When she lets you go, you shoot a look at her that probably screams disbelief at her audacity. You both walk back in front of the camera and she greets him. Formalities, pleasantries, all that crap. One "I'm sorry, I gotta go" and the call is over.

And then...

"Jane, that place I told you about, the one that is opening tonight,-"

"Yes?" you see where this is going.

_But can't we just sit on the couch and cuddle and watch a movie or like make out? Just casual pg13 make-out?_

"Bran has reservations and him and Jo are waiting in the car downstairs and you're coming with." Was that a command? It sure sounded like one. You didn't realize she was all dressed up because she's still wearing her long coat. You, however, are standing there in your hoodie and are on the opposite side of the excitement scale about this.

_And wait, Bran, are they still... wait what?_

You cut the thought off with the notion that doing whatever that thing from last night and this morning was, didn't gift Maura exclusively to you, as much as you wish it had. You never discussed parameters. Nice work detective, assuming and overlooking. Wonderful. You think of her kissing him and you want to vomit.

"Wait, they're downstairs in the car? And who's Jo?"

"He's Bran's friend. You know him, you met a while back."

A mental clip of you telling Maura how much you hated the guy's hair replays in your head and convinces you that she's not trying to set you up or play this as a double date.

"There are things called phones, Maura."

"Yeah but I had a feeling you'd think of a way out if I just called. So I came by."

The logic is nearly flawless. She knew she'd drag you in if she just showed up and planted that kiss on you, her taste unreservedly intoxicating you.

You exhale.

"Maura, I need a shower and make-up and I..." you scan your own body "I guess I gotta find something to wear."

"That's okay, I'll text you the address."

She's out the door before you can complain. You almost run for her. Well, for her lips. And that's when the two of them come by from the end of the hallway and she looks at you as if knowing what you were up to.

"Hey, what took so long?" Jo's hair _really_ sucks. Like, _really_.

"All good, let's go." she tells them.

"Is she not coming?" Bran asks, pointing at you with a tilt of his head, as if you're a baby or an animal or just someone absent that had no say and not even a tongue to speak for themselves.

"She will, she just needs to get ready."

And they move back downstairs. Maura is last. Before she disappears, she turns to you one last time and destroys the entire team of brain cells working to come up with an excuse to skip this.

"Please, _please_ come, I really need you to be there."

Need? _Need? NEED?_

You're a masochist, you decide as a sudden feeling that you are catering to her settles with you. Yet the idea of not being there is unacceptable and you step into the shower.

* * *

Jo is playing a mini game on his Smartphone and you realize it will be equally as boring if you two actually got in a conversation, plus the awkwardness that accompanies any small talk, so yeah, this works for you. He should keep playing his game. You wonder if Bran dragged him over here the same way Maura dragged you. Probably.

Mister squeaky-voice gets up from his seat and goes to greet some friends and Maura turns to you. Like a back-up plan. Second choice. Bullshit.

"Jane, would you mind it if I left you here for a second?"

What are you, a five year old that she's babysitting?

"Of course not."

When she goes after Bran you roll your eyes involuntarily, take a quick look at Jo who's again lost in whatever is happening on the screen and you start chanting a sentence like a mantra. _It's none of my business to mind. It's none of my business to mind. It's none of my business to mind._

It's almost suffocating just sitting right now and as bad as you feel about leaving face-in-screen alone on the table, it's not like he tried to be any less rude. So you excuse yourself and slip away, asking a waiter where you can find the bathroom.

You stare at yourself in the mirror.

Reboot your system, Rizzoli. What's up with you?

She walks in, rummaging through her bag, and she's so into it, she doesn't notice you standing at the other end. She takes her lipstick out to fix the one that you assume is now somewhat smudged on her lips. You don't really think about it, you just walk up to her and turn her sideways and this time you don't worry about how strong your grip or perseverance is. Your hands slide down to her waist and push her, so she takes a step backwards and is now pressed to the wall. You might not know what words would be appropriate for expressing your state of mind right now, but it doesn't matter because your lips speak in another way. They say it all when they join hers.

_I want you._

_I don't like it when other people have their hands on you._

_Or lips._

_I hate that I can't do this anytime and anywhere._

_I hate that I'm never sure if I'm allowed._

_Or if you want it._

_Kiss me._

_Kiss only me._

_I want you._

When you back off, and relax the grip of your fingers, letting her step away from the wall, you see her eyes flip from stunned to entertained and she jokes with you.

"Oh, someone wants more, huh?"

_Don't escape it, it's lame. Admit it._

"Obviously."

You exit the bathroom but don't go for the table. You go for the exit, and she follows.

"Jane..."

"Look, I really should, no, I really _want_ to go. I'm sorry, I'm not really feeling like... any of this." You point around to the balloons and decorations. "You should stay and have fun though."

_It's none of my business to mind._

"Okay, um, let me walk you to your car."

_Sure, whatever._

When you get outside, she gently presses her fingers to your cheek, turning your head, and then kisses you softly.

"Haha, are you guys making out?"

Squeaky voice calling from the entrance twenty meters away. You don't even know why he's here. He probably saw Maura leaving and followed her. For fucking fuckfest, you figure.

"Of course not." she says, and pretends to be wiping something off your cheek. "Call me in the morning?"

"Sure."

Some coldness reigns the air around you.

Due causes inexplicable to you, it seems favorable that you light the mood up.

"Next time you get me off the couch, showering, dressing up and putting on make-up, you better come up with something more fun." Nudge nudge, wink wink. You make it sound teasing. She purses her lips, smirking.

"Good night, Jane."

"Good night."

* * *

You slam the wheel in front of you and exhale loudly before slamming both the car door and the building door behind you as you walk, not caring about what time of night it is and who you are waking up in the process. What are they gonna do, call the police on you? Ha! The couch welcomes you again, and so does the beer as you try to clear your head.

Because, you need to face it.

It's none of your business to mind.

* * *

A/N: As always, please please pleeease review :)

40ish hours left.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Many of you got (heart)sick of mauras games and, I just want to say, well, Jane felt the same. So seeing as you were put in Jane's POV, I guess it worked, trying to portray her state of mind. I am sorry to make you feel that way though :/

I shall make one more note, it might be kind of a buzz-killer or a spoiler or something, but you should know: I always write endgame Rizzles (well, so far and including this, I can't talk about future stuff), so no reasons to worry.

* * *

"Hey Frost, you working today?"

"I'm on call, but I'm free right now. What's up?"

"Pool?"

"Half an hour."

"See you there."

Settled.

You don't really pay attention to the game. It's not that you're out of your best or that you're failing. You do some like a pro and some like you've never touched a cue before. But you're not feeling it. Your heart is not into it.

The place is empty as it's barely noon and the atmosphere soothes you. There's some jolly pop music coming from the radio that you don't pay attention to, and when Frost sees you're "out", he leaves you alone, not forcing a conversation.

Your head is messing with you. In your mind, you see them on her bed. Closer than ever, with their torsos merged together. You can't shake off the image of his hand roaming her back, the other moving her silky hair aside to make way for his lips, that are now marking the curve on the right of her neck. Chills pass through your body and your ribs tighten around your chest. _Breathe. Breathe, Jane. _You hadn't realized you had spread your nostrils, in a desperate subconscious try to ease your attempts at recovering proper respiration. Or was it a pure display of rage? Straining of your facial muscles synced with the angry tightening of your fist around the smooth surface of the cue in your hand. The room goes cold and silent. You strike the cue ball with such force, it jumps off the table. You snap back to reality as it hits the floor, hard and loud.

"Damn, Rizzoli." Frost looks both amused and surprised. Maybe a hint of scared.

You want to punch something. You want to kill someone. You want to yell.

You want to hurt and watch the pain. You want to scream, and to hear your name screamed in a cry for mercy.

Where is all this rage spawning from?

Like last night when you were walking up to the door and crossed ways with the creepy man walking slowly in the darkness of the late night hours. When you wanted him to cause trouble, try to steal or attack or something. Needed him to try, just so you have a reason and an excuse for making someone bleed.

And yet you stay silent, because at that moment, you feel powerless. Ultimately powerless.

* * *

"Hey, where have you been all day?" Her voice from the other side of the line stirs undefined reactions through your mind. There's a little bit of annoyance, a pinch of satisfaction and a hint of anger.

"All day? It's barely after noon, Maura."

"You weren't answering your phone."

"Yeah, I forgot that at home, went to play pool with Frost."

"Wow, waking up early on a Sunday."

"Yep."

Your tone seems too flat and fake. Both sides are aware of it. Silence.

"You said you'd call in the morning."

"Yes."

"But you didn't."

"I didn't wanna wake Bran up..."

"What? Jane..."

"...Or disrupt any of your _morning activities_." You sneer before she has the time to finish what she was saying.

"Jane I didn't sleep with Bran!"

_Oh._

"Really?" You almost stammer.

"Really."

"How so?" You've kinda not even considered the option that she didn't take him home.

"So. I just didn't."

You don't want to admit that this pleases you, so you're glad you're on the phone and she can't see the stupid smirk you're unsuccessful suppressing.

She breaks the new silence and the mood instantly rises.

"Let's go to that fair we talked about. It's kind of the last day to do it since you're travelling tomorrow."

A month of training rookies. You're not sure why you took the job. Maybe it was to take a break from the constant and tiring struggling with cases. Maybe it was to clear your head from everything that was happening in Boston. Clear your head from Maura, even. Or to basically try something new. The reasons don't matter because tomorrow night you'd be flying, a fact which has evaded your head for the past day and a half.

"Sure."

* * *

It's not too cold for walking outside but it's cold enough for her to slip her arm through yours and virtually cuddle into it as you're walking along with the tide of people. Usually, you hate slow-walkers. Right now there is no destination or rush, and you're just letting your head swim in the cheerful music and the tens of smells and scents from the different food stalls at the fair.

You've never heard Maura speak of religion before, except from a fully sociological or scientific point of view, so you're rather shocked when she pulls you towards the entrance of the cathedral nearby.

"I wanna see what's it like inside."

You see absolutely no reason to counter this so you join the line that is quietly walking into the building and while she's observing the carvings and frescoes and art and who knows what, you are hit by the atmosphere in the place. Jane Rizzoli, as far as anyone from your family is concerned, you're going _straight_ to hell. And not even second circle as Dante said, for those sinning due their lust. You're going down to the ultimate circle, closest to the devil. You look around and you try to remind yourself that you're not doing something wrong, that it's not sinful, that it's only the propaganda that condemns you.

Even for yourself, you use the same methods of persuasion you always use: logic. It's like when you're told to treat your body as a temple and you say that hedonistic enjoyment of sex counts as giving that temple a pleasurable treat.

These thoughts are suddenly too much for your head to handle, so you try to follow what Maura does. She points to something on the side she wants to check out. The passing space allows one person only, and you go through first, when you feel her gloved hand slip through your palm and grab it. It's warm and comfortable. Then too comfortable. Then too warm. It has barely been a second and you feel your chest clog up and you can't breathe. All of the eyes on all of the faces on all of the heads on all of the bodies in every spot around you are pointed at your hands. No they aren't, but you're suffocating as if they were.

"I don't think that's appropriate." you whisper, slithering your hand out and grasping her forearm instead as you navigate through the people going in the opposite direction.

"Okay." She doesn't say anything else. Being in front, you can't see her reaction. You can't help but analyze the tone. Was it a complaining "okay"? A conforming one? An indifferent one?

You decide it was a compliant "okay" with a careless laughing undertone.

_Oh fucking stop. What are you, literature major? Ok class, what did the fucking author mean when he said... UGH, Rizzoli! SHUT UP._

But your brain doesn't.

It works full speed.

When you get out of the cathedral she's on a roll, ranting some random information related to some random art form through some random time in history. You descend the stairs, looking through the people below busying around like bees in a hive. Then you turn to her, and suddenly it's as if they don't exist. The Earth stops turning, the clocks stop ticking and your heart probably stills too.

She's still talking about mister someone of somewhere when you stop thinking about the eyes on you and take her hand. Her fingers sync with yours as you intertwine them and you don't wanna meet her eyes because she will see the cheery proud glint in yours and how you are completely and totally blushing and how you would have never ever done that in public but now you don't give a damn and it feels good. It feels free.

Your gait gains confidence and you lead her through the people. The people that are here to fill the background of the story of your life. The side characters, the plot devices, the people that don't have a say. The people that don't matter.

But she does.

She means everything.

* * *

A/N: IRL Maura, I can't accent this enough, when you read this, keep in mind they are still different characters, please, please please please... :)

Oh, and don't forget to review :)

Ina

p.s. m rating returns in ch 7


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: So plans changed, and you're gonna hate me because things are still super harsh, but it was either that or waiting far longer until I write the part where it gets resolved. Plus I thought I should really update tonight. If you don't wanna have your heart kicked and not healed again, wait until the next ch is out and read both :)

Also, this is the only way to answer to some of the guests' reviews, so if you're not interested, you can skip the rest of this author's note and jump straight to the story.

Guest:"Regarding your last AN, If your Maura is, as you say, a completely different character than the Maura we know, then why write her as "Maura" when she is really just an OC with Maura's name?" I didn't mean to refer to their character traits. I was just trying to say that although I'm using a real life plot, the characters it happened to aren't the same, and therefore their thoughts reactions and feelings aren't those of the real people. In short. Jane's thoughts aren't necessarily mine, personally. And I write her actions as Maura's because she's one half of the pairing and I wanted to put the IRL plot in a Rizzles universe.

Guest:"I don't know how to take your story now after reading UR A/N... A Bostonian Fan." J is very much to the point and knows what she wants. I wanted to stray away from fics where Maura is the confident one and is pursuing Jane, and flip it around, where Maura is insecure. J's beating herself up because she doesn't wanna screw things up with someone that's important, but at the same time doesn't want to leave things as they already are. As for the confrontation, read ahead :)

Thank you both for reviewing. I really appreciate it.

* * *

You park in front of her lawn and you wait for her to go. She takes her purse in one hand and reaches for the door handle with the other.

"Hey hey, what, no goodbye kiss?" you call after her, faking a tantrum. She turns, looking surprised.

"What "_goodbye_"? Aren't you coming in?"

"Well-"

"There's still plenty of time to get ready for the farewell party."

"It's not a party, Maura. "You roll your eyes, and wonder if she's actually planning on overdressing and showing up all fancy to a small bar gathering. "We're just meeting up for drinks."

She tilts her head, giving you a smiling This-is-stupid-I-wont-argue look and she turns away again, exiting.

"Come on, Jane."

You take your coat off as you walk into the living room and are casually throwing it over a chair when you notice empty glasses and a messy blanket on the couch. You feel your eyebrows shoot up and you turn back to where she's still taking her shoes off.

"I'm sorry it's such a mess. Bran crashed here and I didn't have time-"

"_Bran_ crashed here?" Now all of your muscles are tightening in fury. You don't wait for her to finish what she's saying. You're not even thinking about lowering your tone or calming down. "Maura, this morning you said-"

"He passed out. He only slept on the couch, we didn't-"

"You lied to me, Maura."

"No I didn't. Jane, we didn't s-"

"But you would've! You had him in your place and if he was sober enough to fuck, he would've fucked."

"Calm down. He was too drunk to drive, and it was late and I didn't want to drive him over to his place. He passed out, couldn't make it to the guest room even."

"There are these magical things called _cabs_."

"Jane, you cannot be getting upset over this."

"Hell yes, I can!" You are now pacing around the room and your breathing grows quicker. You can even feel the pulsing on your forehead. "I've been stuck on this sick emotional rollercoaster and it hasn't even been two days."

She's not calmer either. You can feel her shifting into that mode where she's cold and unapproachable, and it sickens you. It stops being her. She stops being her.

"Wh- emotional? We talked about this Jane, how I _said_ I wanted to try what it would be like to be with a woman. It was an experiment, remember?"

"_Experiment?!_" The sound of that one particular word makes you feel like a lab rat. And yet, you are aware of the conversation that you had, you know it was a tryout and that she's right but all of a sudden this is too agonizing. And you can't blame her because that's what you agreed on. If you ever did something, it would be to test the waters. Those were the terms. You just got carried away. A little too far away.

"Don't you dare snap at me! Do not make me sound like a bad guy just because you have changed your mind!"

It pains you how right she is.

"Oh, and you didn't change yours? Suddenly going back to _not_ liking men more?"

"I never said-"

"Yes you did."

* * *

_"Huh, well you're the one who said no coming back for seconds." You weren't gonna talk about this, remember? Oops, you just did. _

_It's been only two days, one day since you said you won't bring it up, but it slips out during the casual chat happening quietly between you as the guy is looking for your names on the guest-list. She's dragged you to another fancy party. Again._

_Let's blame it on the few shots you just did._

_Strange what alcohol does to you._

_You remind yourself you need to cut down the partying and drinking. It's not that dancing and staying up late is not you, it's just that it's made you do things that lead you to question what is you and what not._

_You know you will listen to yourself. But only until next weekend._

_"Well, no. I told you it was curiosity. And I told you it turns out I like men."_

_Second rejection. _Jane, stop. Enough. _The party goes on and nobody knows or cares about the disappointment that is playing with your gut as if it's a punching bag. You hate it. But it's dancing time, so you give up thinking._

* * *

"And then two days ago - boom, you want me again." Your arms spread as you mimic the explosion, and you stare at her, waiting for a reaction. She takes her eyes off of you and shakes her head. You don't know what it means. "I'm your play-toy, Maura!"

"Yes, and I'm yours! That's what trying things out meant!" She's drawing out the words as if she's disciplining a school girl and it is the most condescending tone you can imagine Maura treating you with. You retort equally slowly, mocking that tone, excessively gesticulating, restless, hurt.

"You _used_ me, Maura."

"And _you_ used _me_."

Terms and Conditions, remember Jane?

"No, I didn't." _I did, didn't I?_ "You knew from before that I was into women too. I knew what I wanted." _You._ "_You_ were the curious one. You're the scientist, I'm the rat. How was I using you?"

"You have obviously changed your mind about the emotional extent of whatever this between us is. Therefore, you're also experimenting."

"Oh for fuck's sake Maura-"

"And plus, you're with Casey, Jane!" She stops you by yelling out the thing you cannot possibly mark as less relevant in this moment, and it takes you by surprise. "It doesn't matter if he's in Afghanistan. You're together, right? And you're in love with him, apparently. So, you _can't_ be mad about Bran, and you _can't_ demand exclusivity."

You want to tell her how you haven't thought about him for longer than you can remember, that times and things and feelings have changed, that it's irrelevant. He is irrelevant. But something stops you and your mouth is suddenly dry and immobile.

"Forget it." you manage to mutter as your legs are starting to take you outside.

"Jane, we agreed." There's more insistence in her words now. Like if she says it hard enough it's gonna stick and things will return to someplace they can realistically never be again. Because, damn it Rizzoli, this was supposed to be just for fun. You weren't supposed to fall for her. Not in that way.

You turn around but you don't face her. It's seems that you're not talking to her now, but admitting it to yourself. Regardless of how calm or possessed you remain on the outside, the things you say - they fracture you.

"You know what the stupid part is? I'm gonna let you do it again, I know it, drag me into your bed. Because I so pathetically want you that I volunteer to go through all the bullshit that comes in the package."

"You could've stopped me. Two days ago you cou-"

All the calmness goes down the drain.

"Do you _not_ fucking listen to me?! I didn't want to. I. Didn't. Want. To."

It might've been a little too strong, a little too harsh, because there's glistening in her eyes that can only be from watering she's not allowing form into actual teardrops. She doesn't break. Instead, she grows even more bitter and you can't stand it.

"You had so many ways out. You could have not come back in the morning, but you did. You could've not kissed me again, but you did. You don't like the game? Don't play it."

"This is still a game to you..."

"Well what is it to you?"

So many things rush to the front of your brain that you can't pick one, and even if you could, it would probably not be the right or most important one. So you close your eyes and pressure them back in your head to where they can't make things worse. A burning spreads where your thoughts empty and refill and it's too much. It's all too much.

"I need to clear my head."

Your hand is already at the door's handle, opening it.

"_Of cooourse _you run away now_._" You can feel her head shake in disapproval. "A conversation a little out of your comfort zone and you're acting like a squirmy five-year-old."

"Just let me cool off before I say something I shouldn't, Maura" you hiss and then you're out, leaving the door open behind you.

Now, it's nothing like a movie scene. It's not a case where one rushes off, the other follows and they stop the fight in a fiery kiss and credits roll to some cheesy generic song. You're actually thankful she doesn't follow you, because you won't get a happy ending, you'll get more fighting and more anguish and it will keep feeling as if every sentence keeps kicking you in the gut. This is better, faster, like ripping off a band-aid.

You breathe in the cool air as you're walking to the car, but you don't feel it elsewhere even though you're only in a sweatshirt. Your head is obviously heated enough to make up for everything else.

She's standing on the doorstep and you manage to dissuade yourself from looking back at her as you start the car and leave.

If you could board that plane tonight and be really gone, it would be perfect. But it's not like that.

* * *

Off to write the next chapter and eagerly awaiting your reviews :)


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: I'm sorry for the delay, I had the worst case of writer's block. This chapter was supposed to be longer, but I had to cut the last scene in order to publish today and not keep you waiting longer. However, the scene _will_ be continued in the next chapter. ;)

Enjoy!

* * *

If it were up to you, you wouldn't have shown up. You would've stayed in front of the screen until late at night, gone to bed at dawn, and gotten up just in time to pack and drive to the airport. But they are all waiting for you, your colleagues, your brothers, your mother, and you can't skip this one out. Hell, if you don't go, they'll come at your door and barge in without a second thought.

You grab the keys and reach for the coat on the hanger, when you remember you left it at her place. It takes some great will power to persuade yourself to go and pick it up now, because experience tells you tomorrow you'll run out of time to do it. And you have to take that one with you. So you hurriedly grab the jacket from your wardrobe and are on the way to her house before you give your mind time to talk itself out of it.

But all of the pep talk you're giving yourself proves to be in vain as Maura's house is in darkness and nobody's answering the door. You should have called. Why would you just assume she would be at home. You try to remember her schedule and you think she's not supposed to be on call.

It's only when you park behind the bar that you realize that maybe she's come to the party. Regardless of the fight, she might be there, and you are uncertain how you feel about her presence.

Autopilot is on and you greet them all, one by one, waiting for the moment when you lay your eyes on her, but that doesn't happen, and you don't ask anyone else where she is, because, well, in this group, you're the one that's supposed to know. You're the one they'd ask for Maura's location and wellbeing, right? So if you don't know it means something is up and now is the absolutely opposite of the best of times to show these people around you that something is indeed not okay.

Everyone tells their order to the lanky college boy that's your waiter tonight, and just as he prepares to leave, you hear the latest addition to the tab.

"And a glass of red wine, you can pick the sort."

You've joined a few tables for the occasion, and you're just noticing that the guests have left one empty chair next to you, because, by default, that's Maura's spot. So she sits there as everyone greets her.

"Hey," she turns to you, her face revealing nothing.

"Hi." You are certain that yours is filled with confusion. But more importantly, you're surprised to feel the last thing you thought this encounter would bring. Relief. You didn't wanna leave holding a grudge, right Jane? It's indisputable that you wished for it in that moment of anger and frenzy. But rationally, you didn't want that, did you?

When the drinks arrive everyone is already talking and your corner is the loudest in the place. You watch them laugh, talk over each other, tease and frown, drink, have fun. And you know that you'd rather have her like this here, comfortable, relaxed, than complicate things. And that's when you completely zone out of where you physically are and travel to your own mind place. Half of it is anxiously providing evidence to yourself as to why Maura is better just as your friend. The other half of it is already composing scenarios of how you say this to her.

By the end of the talk you have with yourself you are convinced to shut this before it's too late. You'll keep things friendly. Period.

"Hey."

It's her hand on yours that shakes you out of the reverie and it serves as an ultimate confirmation. You were never startled by the casual touches, and now you are. You jerked as if it wasn't the most natural thing that's always been there. That's it. You know you can't handle the pressure so you get up as if to order another round.

"Wanna help me out?" You say and you turn your hand inside hers, catching it and pulling her up.

She doesn't understand why you're taking her but she follows with a quizzical look on her face as you leave the table.

The waiter nearly runs to you as he sees you approach the bar, but you shoo him away with the wave of your hand.

Once you're far enough to not be heard, you turn to her.

"Look Maura, I'm sorry about before, and..." The words get stuck in your throat and you try to recall some of the how-to-tell-her scenarios but you come up empty-handed.

"Jane I don't like fighting with you-"

"Me neither!" You cut in.

"-and I wouldn't do anything to compromise our friendship."

She would _not_. Check. _No fighting. _Check. _For friendship_. Check.

"Okay." Did this just go way easier than expected? "I'm glad we're on the same page."

Now you wave your hand again and the waiter returns.

You order a beer and Maura's favorite wine. Just like before.

* * *

You leave your jacket in the car and walk in the house with her so she doesn't have to bother going back outside to hand you the coat. You see it lying exactly where you had left it several hours ago. As you put it on, you see that the glasses and the rest of the mess is gone. Of course, when would Maura leave things out of order? You do however wonder how come she didn't think to bring it with her to the gathering.

Whatever.

"Jane, wait." she calls after you when you're already at the door. "Let me hug you." she says, innocently, and it doesn't really surprise you. She probably thinks that you won't get time to see each other tomorrow. You turn back and you smile as she wraps her arms around you and you press yours to her back. By now she's out of her high-heels but you're still in your boots, so her head is low enough for her to settle it in the crook of your neck. It goes on longer than what you have observed normal hugs to last, and when her hair moves tickling your neck you think it's to put an end to it. But it's not. She simply turns her head towards yours instead of looking away and lays it back on your shoulder. Her hot breath is a torture on your neck. You can feel her cheek's soft skin and you swear you felt her lips on you at least for a millisecond while she was shifting.

It seems to end when she pulls her head away again and you drop your arms from around her back, pulling away as well. But she doesn't let go. This time her lips don't only graze your neck, but obviously and deliberately linger there.

"Maura..."

Her next kiss is harder and warmer.

I guess you weren't on the same page. You play the talk in your head again and realize that there was nothing explicit said that terminated this thing between you. You just thought she was cutting it too. And she was merely making up with you. Stopping the tension and fighting. Fuck.

"Look, Maura, stop."

Her tongue is now tickling you and you're burning.

You're suddenly glad you weren't thinking the same.

You feel there's no point stopping her now, the damage is already done, you're already past the point where you told yourself you'd keep things friendly.

"Okay, I'm gonna count to three and you can back away."

She doesn't. Your neck is on fire.

"After that, I'm not gonna contain myself."

Her arms withdraw and you think she will too.

But they only do that to slide below your coat and unzipped sweater and you feel her fingers through the shirt below.

"One."

You feel yourself shake as she starts sucking.

"Two."

She's gonna pull away now. Such a teasing Maura thing to do. It won't surprise you.

"Three."

You wait for a moment for her to realize you've stopped counting, giving her, but mostly, yourself, a last check. A moment prolonged to decide if it's worth it.

It's your last night here.

You'll have a month for thinking.

Now's not the time.

You lift your hands and softly push her head away, but only to lean in and move those lips to yours. She kisses you hard and once again you feel like she was just waiting on you to crack, to give in. You spin her until her back is on the door and your whole body presses into her, keeping her there. You stick to what you said. You're not containing yourself. Your hands, cupping her jaw, move to her neck and shoulders, down the length of her arms, slowly, in contrast to the hastiness that reigns your kissing. When you reach her palms you grab them and step back. Her gasp shows she doesn't expect the way you lift them above her head, pin them to the door, and lock them there with one of your hands. The other one slides back down, moving her hair, and your head tilts before your lips hungrily rush to her neck. She takes a deep breath as your tongue travels up below her ear, and she doesn't let it out even as your lips agonizingly slowly graze down the full length of her shoulder. There you swap them for teeth which you eagerly immerse into her skin, and your hand trails the side of her torso, sliding behind to the small of her back, and slipping lower to grasp the smooth skin below her clothes. It's then that a sigh escapes her and you take it as an encouragement. Your teeth sink in with the same intensity with which your fingers dig into her flesh.

You can't read the meaning of the sound she makes so you move to see if you've overdone it. But when you look at her, her eyes are shining with lust and it's evident that her pupils aren't dilated just because of the dim light that surrounds you.

When she arches up to you to kiss you again, there is no more restraint.

* * *

A/N: I know you hate it when authors ask this, but please review. I really read into everything you say. Thanks :)


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: **I'll probably get you a bit out of the mood from the end of the last chapter, but** please read this, it's important.**

So I've been thinking about this last (yes, last, but wait don't frown yet) part and I realized that it is very important to me to write the story _my_ way, but that I feel terrible to have to disappoint some of you. So, I (think I ) found a way in which this will be executed most painlessly.

This chapter has **4 parts**: The first applies to everyone. The second and third part are different continuations. For those of you who want a Rizzles endgame and a stop to the uncertainties and the teasing and using and what not, read the part labeled "**Rizzles Endgame**".

For those who want to stick with me and read the sequel I'm planning to write, read the part labeled "**With Sequel**". _However_ for that one I don't have a fixed plot yet, I'm not guaranteeing anything, it's a fully indeterminate scenario and I don't know how it will end. _But_ I can for sure say that it will not be easy going or painless, and that you will most probably hate what I'm doing with the characters because they will _not _be lovey-dovey cute and fluffy Jane and Maura in an unconditional love as a great part of readers expect them to be here. I'll remind you that this is fanfiction, and that _I wish to abide to no norms_ that someone has established in their head of how RI based fanfic should look/flow.

And the **4th part is the end piece and applies to both scenarios**.

I know that this turned out to be a rather short story but those are as much words I can extend actual 72 hours into.

So, finally, a biiig thank you for all of you who have stuck with me until here. An even bigger one for those who wish to continue in uncharted waters afterwards, and... I hope you had fun.

Enjoy.

* * *

(Part 1, for all)

When she arches up to you to kiss you again, there is no more restraint.

You let go of her arms and start walking backwards, pulling her in. It's a miracle how you make it up the stairs that quickly, without tripping on the way on any of the clothes that are now discarded around. When you finally step in her bedroom you only have the underwear left on you. She is the one walking back now and you push her gently as she reaches the edge of the bed.

She sits back. A smug smile forms on your face and place a knee on each side of her, and your hands immediately find themselves on her back, taking off her bra. Not even a second afterwards you feel the click of your bra clasp and the soft scraping of the straps down your arms. When they are free you reach for her but she escapes you, sliding herself lower in between your legs. And then her tongue is on your abs and her nails on your chest and are leaving invisible scratches as they smolder the tissue under your breasts when she moves tantalizingly over them. Her tongue slithers to the side of your waist and for a fraction of a moment brushes over that weak spot. You squirm. You can feel her chuckle victoriously, like she had just stuck a flag on this new territory, this new conquest. Her hands now slide on your lower back, but only lightly touching you, her fingertips like feathers on you. And then her tongue does that thing again and you feel your guts doing somersaults inside. She sucks and you involuntarily shut your eyes and bite your lip. She bites and some primal sound escapes you.

And you almost moan out her name.

It lingers on your tongue and you feel it slipping out of your gasping mouth, but you close it and you stop yourself. For an inexplicable reason it feels too personal, too intimate. And now you don't want to put any emphasis on the fact that you're doing this with _her._ Maura. No. It's just pure untainted sex with a random attractive body.

"Move up." you say as you get off of her, and she lays fully in the middle of the bed without complaints.

A very, _very _attractive body, you think. You lie down on her side and support yourself on your elbow. Your left hand moves slowly along her front, and, reaching even lower, tugs at the edge of her underwear. You try to figure out if her being naked under you was included in one of those "blurry images" she said she remembers from two nights ago. She smiles at you so you get up and slide them off. You're just about to return to laying next to her when she stops you. She points at yours and you casually throw them somewhere on the floor behind you. In an instant it strikes you that this was the last barrier. The last she hadn't seen of you. It surprises you how little you care about this and how big of a deal you expected to think of it as.

So before you know it you find yourself on top of her again, unable to quench the thirst for her kisses that gets repeatedly reborn the moment you part from her.

You don't tease around anymore. You simply reach for her, reach inside of her.

Her mouth snaps open, her head arches back into the pillow and she jabs five nails into your back and five into your scalp.

"Fuuuck, Maura!"

You bite your tongue the second you say it but it doesn't matter cause the name is already out and to you it sounds as if the walls are screaming it back to you.

And you had always thought _she_'d be very vocal, as open in her physical expressions as in her regular outlook on sex. Yet she's biting her lip and her eyes are shut tight, but no sound escapes her.

You are now out and removing strands of her hair away from her face. She reaches up and grabs your fingers, guiding them down to her mouth, sucking them in fully, sending shivers through you. Your teeth tug at her ear.

"Show me what you like," you whisper and you slide to her side to give her space. There is a smooth wet trail that you leave as you move down her body again. It's excruciatingly pleasant, every time your fingertips glide unhurriedly on her skin. Like following a treasure map except that there is gold everywhere.

She doesn't wait for you to play but kisses you fiercely and grabs your hand, covering it with hers. And then she starts moving you against herself and you let her guide you and you hear the slick sound your fingers make and her short breaths that quickly join in the rhythm and her blazing torso is rubbing on yours and the sheets rustle below you and she speeds you up and her eyes shoot up to the ceiling and... and you move with her and you... you... You can't stop watching her. You can't stop watching the way her upper lip curves downwards as she's seeking air open-mouthed, or the twitches on her cheek that she's probably unaware she's doing every time she gets a little bit closer, or the way her hair is messed up and spread out everywhere and still looks hotter than anything she would have done with it on purpose.

A wave wakes you up from your eerie observation. It strikes you and travels through your veins when she moves her hand to you. It's right then that you realize how ready you are.

She pushes down on your back with her free hand and tries to kiss you, sloppily, breathing heavily, the control over her movements lost on her.

And it's not her sliding or pressure that _does it_. It's not her tongue impatiently seeking for yours. It's not her wildly pressing herself onto you.

It's the way she writhes under you. The way she squirms. It's the way her eyes shut tightly and the way her lips freeze mid-kissing you. It's the second she lets out that sound, too soft, too gentle, too quiet, yet trumpeting in your mind. It's the feeling that she has, in this way, in these few moments, fully surrendered to you.

And then it's you that's falling over the edge too. With her.

. . .

. . .

. . .

She has the most annoying possible morning alarm. It wakes you up so sharply that in the first second you don't even realize where you are. Limbs intertwined and messy sheets. You fell asleep there, shortly after you nearly collapsed.

"Can you press "snooze" Jane?"

You shake your head as if it will help clear it and smash the off button on her alarm.

Careful not to be too noisy you look around for your underwear, and are just about to go for the rest of the clothing when you hear her stop you.

"Jane, get back in bed."

"I need to go."

"No, you don't, the alarm just went off, I know there's time."

"No, Maura, _I need_ to go." Sleeping and cuddling stimulates the hormones in a way that lead the brain to form deeper emotional connections. _Remember when you told me that?_

"Jane..." she says it through a resigned exhale. "Please..."

But you can't give in. It's not okay. You return with your clothes wrinkled in your hands and sit on the edge of the bed, starting to put the jeans on.

Don't fuck up, Jane.

So you just switch the tone to a much softer, calmer one.

"Look, I don't wanna leave you but I have to pack and get ready and drive Jo Friday to Korsak's and... just, I can't."

It takes you only that short to put it all on. It's far from hidden that you're in a hurry. She sees through your excuses and your bullshit, and she knows you can get your bag set in twenty minutes and your mother can pick up the dog.

Her voice is soft:

"I won't see you for a while."

You don't know why or how or which devil poked you in the throat with his spear for you to actually spit it out, and you feel the sting of it, but you can't take it back:

"Get Bran to keep you company."

In the same second you turn to her to say you didn't mean that, to call it off, to say you're sorry, to let her know, to remind yourself and her of the mantra: "_still_ none of your business".

But she stops you.

"Bran's gone."

"Wh-what do you mean?"

"He's not gonna keep me company."

* * *

(Part 2, read this if you want Rizzles Endgame, no sequel)

This is where your mind splits in the faction that wants to believe that she ended things with him, and the faction that is trying to be reasonable and says that something entirely unrelated to you has happened that made Bran end it, and not her. That this is not _her _choice. That you're just the next option after the previous has been taken away from her.

She sits up.

"I went to see him yesterday, just before the party, and explain that I want to terminate our settlement."

"You did?" You're waiting for the moment reality comes, slaps you in the face, and says, hey Jane, newsflash, that's not how things work out for you. But it doesn't.

"Yes, Jane. I... I want to try this with you."

"_What?_"

"The full package."

"But you said..." ..._I was a lab rat._

"I know what I said. It's not what I felt."

"Well, why did you?" _...let me believe that? ...kick me in the gut? ...if you didn't mean it?_

"I was scared."

Your mind goes blank.

Can she see all the questions that you are incapable of shaping into legitimate sentences?

You can only manage one word.

"_Why?_"

Her silence is short but unbearable and she's nervously rubbing her hands.

"Because that's different, and it's a new step, and it can lead to conflict , and it's full of unknowns and it might not work and then there can be a fallout and..."

_The Slippery Slope is a logical fallacy in which a person asserts that some event must inevitably follow from another, without any argument for the inevitability of the event in question._ In your head, you see her standing at her desk, citing the definition for you that one casual work afternoon. And also that second one when she thought you weren't paying attention the first time.

"That's not necessarily how-"

"But Jane-"

"Slippery slope, Maura."

For a moment everything is still, and she's hit with the realization that you're throwing her own words back at her. Her eyes wonder elsewhere for a while, but then, finally, she closes them, takes a deep breath, and looks straight at you, fiercely, as if she's reaching, digging, deep into them, trying to force them to understand, trying to let them, let you, know.

"I just don't wanna lose you, Jane."

In a second you're next to her, encasing her, her torso relaxing in your arms. She lowers her head until it sinks into your neck in that calm comfortable fit you have mastered.

"You won't."

"So-" She starts a question that you don't let her finish. You don't need to. You know.

"Yes."

* * *

(Part 3, read this if you want to continue with the sequel of the story my way, no guarantees, no complaints)

_"He's not gonna keep me company."_

You try to show neither the fact that you don't fully believe this, nor how happy it would make you if it were true.

"You just don't need to worry about him while you're away."

She's smiling at you. You can't help but glance to her neck and the lack of redness is partially sufficient to assure you she means it. But you know she has her ways around the truth without saying lies so you can never be fully certain.

She turns slightly and opens her arms, inviting you in, and you reluctantly agree and sink in. It's comfortable, lying next to her, but you can't bring yourself to meet her eyes.

"Maura, look I'm not... I don't... I..." Deep breath. Start over. "I'm not trying to push you into anything, but you're not just a random person I picked up at a bar, you're not just anybody, you are very important to me. And you should know that."

"I know."

There's a stark contrast between your fidgety self and her tranquility.

"And I obviously can't tell where the lines between sex and friendship and everything else stand."

She laughs:

"We'll figure it out."

"We need something like.. a safe word, for when this... starts going downhill."

"Okay."

Her arms tighten further around you and she kisses your cheek.

"Jane just... don't get too carried away, please."

You nod. You'll do your best.

* * *

(part 4, closing piece, applies to both)

The breakfast you have together is just like any other. The walk you take in the park is just like any previous one. The way you snuggle under the blanket with a movie couldn't be more ordinary.

But your blood, your lips, your breath, your skin, your mind, your heart... they're somehow at peace.

And you might be about to board at the gate and there might be what feels like a century until you see her again, and there might be all kinds of qualms and things you'll probably overthink, but when she hugs you just before you board, you are certain you can't wait to see what will be waiting for you when you get back.

After all, a month can't be that long, right?

* * *

A/N: I'll keep this story marked "incomplete" and post a notification for when I start the sequel!

Enormous thanks for your time, your reviews, your thoughts, your devotion, everything! I hope to have you around next time.

(And of course I hope to read your reviews ;) )

:)


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